A picture without a frame

Students and Sasha Frere-Jones (center), chumming it up after a 3-hour music marathon .

Sanderson 215. Christian Mind. I was a freshman. Most of my class- all three hundred of us- had gathered for one of our first group core lectures. I’m not really sure what I was expecting for an introduction: maybe a few lines of Scripture, prayer, or perhaps a rendition of “All For Jesus”? Surely any of these would have been an appropriate inauguration to a topic like “Christian Mind,” right?
Wrong. As the trumpets started and I heard “No fightin’, no fightin’, Shakira, Shakira” flooding the room, I was positively shocked (as well as tempted to start dancing). It was clear that many of my classmates felt the same way. Were we really hearing “Hips Don’t Lie” by Shakira? From the all-too-suggestive album “Oral Fixation”? It’s not what I would have expected. More likely, I half expected someone to jump on the stage and declare the song to be blasphemy. But instead, the professor leading the lecture silenced the music and began a PowerPoint entitled “All truth is God’s truth.”
I have to admit, there was a small part of me that wondered if this was all a hoax. Covenant was a Presbyterian, conservative, Bible-believing college. Or so I had thought.
Fast-forward almost three years. I sat in the same room-Sanderson 215. Sasha Frere-Jones, The New Yorker’s pop music critic, is at the podium. (Random trivia: his favorite band is The Beatles and he has played bass in a band called Ui- “Ouie!”) Mr. Frere-Jones fielded students’ questions for nearly three hours before asking a couple questions of his own. He proved to be a top-notch discussion moderator, refusing to allow any one question or individual to dominate the group’s conversation.
Mr. Frere-Jones used creative examples to explain that music should be critiqued in light of how well it succeeds at accomplishing its goals. When he went to take a sip of his Dasani grape water, he became frustrated because it failed to live up to its name and declared purpose. In that same spirit, he argued, we can’t ask music to be something it’s not or to do something it can’t.
As the flood of questions started to die down, Mr. Frere-Jones pointed out that, despite our religious differences, we seemed to be listening to basically the same music he was. He then turned the tables, asking us to explain how our Christianity affects where we “draw the line” in deciding whether or not to listen to a piece of music (cue “Hips Don’t Lie” in my head). Not surprisingly, students struggled to provide any clear-cut answers.
Most of their responses could be boiled down to Covenant’s trademark mantra: “all truth is God’s truth,” all beauty ultimately comes from God, and we can appreciate good art regardless of its makers’ religious affiliations. We can listen to The Beatles, we can listen to the Newsboys- either way, we catch glimpses of the glory of God. A rock band can often provide inspiration just as well as a hymn.
As we struggled to flesh out our responses to Mr. Frere-Jones’ searching question, we realized that though all of us seem to appreciate truth and beauty wherever we find it, there is one key difference. Mr. Frere-Jones acknowledged that he envied our consistent worldview-what he called our “framing device.”
While reflecting on his words, I realized that my own views on art and beauty have been radically reshaped through conversations and coursework during my three years at Covenant. As I continue to piece together my own worldview, I recognize that while I may not leave Covenant able to give a truly satisfactory answer to Mr. Frere-Jones’ question, I have at least made progress. I will continue drawing lines, delineating what I believe and what I don’t, always being thankful for the gift of my framing device.